TCoD: Fairy Floss and Funeral Lilies
by ToriHouji
Summary: 3rd in the Chronicles of Darkness series. Anomen reminices on his forbidden love with his late sister, Moira
1. Chapter 1

The Chronicles of Darkness: Fairy Floss and Funeral Lilies

I remember the taste of the fairy floss you bought for me at the circus two years ago. The gnome had a wonderful contraption, where he would pour flavored pink sugar into it, and out would come sweet fragrant clouds of delicate candy, light as air. It melted upon the tongue like snowflakes, staining it dark pink and tasting of Celestia. You laughed as you buried your face into the mass, it sticking to your cheeks, nose, lips. I wished to lick it off, then, to watch you redden as you had many times before, blossoming womanhood upon your girl's complexion.

Now, I hear no laughter and smell no sugary sweetness, only the funeral dirge and calla lilies. The cold marble slab that you lie upon and your pallid cheek upon the silken cushion brings me back to reality. Oh, Moira, my Moira, you are dead and gone, and nothing I or Jailin could do, no spell we could weave, could bring the laughter back to your lips, the color to your gentle cheek. I love you.

I remember the comfort we took from each other, the solace. When Mother died, when Father would get drunk and rage, throwing things into walls, when they came and took the furniture and we hid your dresses and dolls, when I wept upon my bed after my Induction into the Order of the Most Radiant Heart because Father had burst in, drunk as always, denouncing me, when Father beat me for soiling my bed with my seed in the night whilst I dreamt...these things always seemed less when you placed your hand upon my brow, when you'd curl up on my chest like a kitten and sleep, when your petal-soft lips feathered kisses at my cheek. I remember the look in your eyes when I came in with my first suit of plate shining, the Gauntlet of Helm emblazoned upon it, looking upon me as if I was Helm himself descended from the Heavens. I remember, Moira.

I remember your voice, sweet and high, as you sang in the Temple. I remember the many failed attempts at baking me a cake for my birthday, the air thick with smoke, and you frustrated near to tears. I remember the final cake, a bit lopsided, but delicious nonetheless, and the look of pure joy upon your face as I ate it. I remember you dressing for Temple, you sliding the pressed linen over your head, dabbing on Mother's violet water, brushing your dark hair until it shone like silk. And, Moira, like you asked, I remember. I can't forget.

You began to bud, to blossom. Father was too drunk, so I had to take you to shop for your first brassiere. You were embarassed beyond belief, not having Mother there to help you. You could barely stand to look at me, and your face was as red as the summer strawberries. You went into a seperate room...and then a few minutes later, I heard you call my name. "Anomen...can you please come here?"

I entered, only to be shocked. You stood there, dress down, in your underwear, the brassiere barely covering your gentle breasts. I stared, reddening, and stirring beneath my codpiece.

"Can...can you fasten it in the back? I would have asked the attendant, but I...I'm embarassed to have a stranger see me thusly." You wouldn't meet my eyes.

I nodded, red with hands shaking, and I fastened the brassiere with some difficulty. I needed something to say. "You're becoming quite the lovely young lady, Moira."

You turned. I gasped. The violet brassiere matched your panties, and it accented what you had very, very well. You looked fiery and determined. The next moment, you were against me, hands gently fiddling with my codpiece.

"I was hoping that you'd noticed." Your voice was breathy, a girl trying to sound like a woman. "I've seen you...in the bathing chamber, what you do. You've become quite the man, Anomen." Your lips inched ever closer to mine.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. "I...Moira...this, this isn't right. Gods, this isn't right. You're my sister, and you're only eleven! You're but a child, please, Moira. I can't."

You looked at me, angrily. Backing away, you pulled your dress back on. "Anomen, I love you. It is not my fault. I did not choose to feel like this. I...I just do. I just hope you'll realize soon enough." You finished buttoning your dress. We paid for your purchases, the violet one, along with others in different colors, and we returned home

We didn't speak outside of courtesy for months Father was too drunk to notice. One night, he began a rage, screaming and yelling at anyone in range. You fled to my room, shut and barred the door, weeping softly. I looked up from the scroll I was writing, a treatise on shrine quality, a paltry school piece. I turned to face you and you flung yourself into my arms, and sobbed. I carried you to the bed, holding you. "Moira, what's wrong? Tell me."

You sniffled. "Father...Father yelled at me. He re-read the bill from the clothing shop. It was months and months ago! He asked why I needed so much underwear, if I was whoring myself out, if I was having intercourse with all the boys in my class at Temple. He...He called me a slut...oh, Anomen! I wish Mother were alive! Then, then maybe someone would understand me, someone would love me..." You burst into fresh tears.

I held you tight, free from fear of harming you, as I was in my tunic and breeches. "Oh, Moira! I love you! I'm sorry that Mother isn't here, but you know it was the alcohol speaking, not Father. He wouldn't think that of you. He loves you. And you know that I love you, always."

Your crying subsided. You looked up, your face tearstained, your eyes shining, cheeks pink, lips red. We locked eyes, and it all fell apart in that moment. You leaned in close, your lips almost to mine.

"Love me then, Anomen. Love me, all of me. Let me be yours. Just...love me."

Then, you kissed me. Hot, fevered lips to mine. You drained me and renewed me in that kiss, Moira.

We fell apart. Scrambling for each other, pulling clothes off, lips, tongues, fingers, hands on every part of each other, learning what was already intuitively known. We stopped, nude, me on top of you, poised to enter you. You smiled, hair in disarray. "Be gentle, love."

I looked you over, your slim pale skin, your dark glossy hair, your tiny budding breasts, your lovely hairless lips, your slim legs. I smiled. "Don't worry, Moira. I shall show you how gentle a man may be."

We learned each other, our lovemaking an art that we added to every day. The moonflower root powder that prevented pregnancy was a godsend. I loved you as you blossomed, loving you for who you were. You wept the day that I left, our lovemaking the night before the sweetest and saddest ever had.

The next time I returned home, you were dead.

You told me, once, a night where we lay entwined, exhausted, that should you ever die, I was to find love anew, and allow another woman to know what beauty she had known. I wouldn't hear of it at first, do you remember? You made me swear and promise to you.

I think I have found love. Her name is Jailin, and I have promised to follow her to help her find her sister, Imoen. I admit, I am embittered to her, but she is a cleric also, so understands my values. I do not know if I will be able to love her as I love you, but I can see. I have killed for her, it is true, but it was for you, Moira. I thought I was doing right by you. I do not know if it will last, but I cannot see that far. Time will only tell.

Until then, I shall have the memory of the fairy floss to remind me of your love, my Moira.

In forever love and in Helm's name

-Anomen Delryn, your faithful brother and lover


	2. Author's Note

Author's Note: "Incest!"

If you're reading this, I'll assume you've read the other two stories in this series, "Rose Petal Skin" and "Stockholme Syndrome.  
Some readers have asked what the idea behind the series was. I got the "plot bunny" as we call it, while replaying BG2 for the 8 billionth time. I wondered what Irenicus was thinking when he raped Imoen, so I started doing a psychiatric evaluation on a madman. I strive to delve into the dark abyss of the "Baldur's Gate" series, because it really is a dark story. I have gone through horrific things in my short life, and I felt a kinship to these tortured souls living in a flawed existance within Faerun. I wanted to show my perspective, no matter how disturbing and morbid, of what went on when the writers weren't writing.  
A note: The main character in this series is reffered to as Jailin, a half-elven female fighter-cleric. She was my first CHARNAME, and is now an NPC mod in progress. Check her out at This story is dedicated to my wonderful, loving, beautiful muse, Ojou-sama. (I dare say, she knows who she is). Thank you for confiding in me, and allowing me to confide in you. May we convert your abyss into a beautiful garden, and let us both play there, warm and comforted by the presence of each other, and the knowledge of each other that we have. My deepest awe and love to you, milady.

I needed a story for Anomen, and I realized that he knew a lot about sex for a paladin-in-training. They never let you know anything about Moira, really, other than she died young, and that Anomen loved her. I've played with the idea of incestual siblings (I had a fanfiction based on the "Winds of Change" trilogy by Mercedes Lackey with incestual twins), because I had a "twin" growing up, my best friend Romie. We felt for each other like siblings, but there was always that very sexual undercurrent between us, despite the fact that we were rather young, around twelve. Well, we were both early bloomers, and with hormone levels at their highest, a bit of lust was unavoidable. I had no problem with the incest factor (I'm a big fan of Imoen x CHARNAME, and they ARE half-siblings and were raised to be like siblings), but I got stuck on the fact that Anomen was significantly older than Moira. Well, Ojou-sama convinced me to take the plunge, so with her blessing and wonderful muse-dom, I took the dive, and am very pleased with the results.  
Please honor me with your comments and reviews! And CONSTRUCTIVE criticism only, please. I don't want "EEEW, INCEST AND CONSENSUAL EGOPHILIA!" and flames. You were duley warned. 


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